Snuggle Wolf
by anotherscreamingfangirl
Summary: It's raining. The Hale house is leaky. Stiles offers Derek a place to stay for the night. Fluff. "Look," Stiles turns back to Derek before heading back to the Jeep, "If the whole pool party thing gets old, you can just come crash at my house, OK?" Derek, what with his excellent social skills and all, doesn't say anything. Stiles shakes his head and dashes for the Jeep.


**Snuggle Wolf**

The Hale house is leaky. It's been a long time coming, but a few sections of the roof have started to give in under the torrential rain that had descended on Beacon Hills three whole days ago and has not let up.

Derek takes out his frustration on the pack, pushing them harder than ever, and training long into the evening even though he knows they all have school tomorrow. Stiles, like everyone else, is not exempt from school and that would give him a fantastic excuse to not be here, huddled under cover on Derek's porch in three sweaters and a raincoat and somehow he is still damp and shivering. But that's life when your best friend is a freaking werewolf and you hang around to provide moral support as the Alpha Wolf throws him into trees.

The wolves are so wet and muddy that it's hard to tell who's who and they look more like Uruk Hai bursting out of the mud than actual generally attractive teenagers. Stiles can still pick out Ercia tho who, after hours of battle-training, is still the most enthusiastic. Erica loves it. Muddy and bleeding and snarling and loving every minute of it. Stiles understands; she's gone from being weak and vulnerable, betrayed by her own body to being in control. Strong. Powerful. Stiles tells himself he's not envious.

Stiles doesn't have much time to brood because the training session is apparently over and the pack is making their way over to the house.

"Jesus Scott!" Stiles whines at the mud-monster standing before him, giving him the biggest I've-had-a-hard-day-please-love-me puppy eyes ever, "I can't let you in the Jeep like that."

Derek, who has emptied a large barrel over his head and is now mostly free from mud but still soaking wet, directs the pack to rinse off in the creek.

"And you can dry off with my multiple sweaters once you get back!" Stiles yells after his best friend.

More to fill the silence that the betas leave behind than anything, Stiles asks Derek where he's planning on sleeping tonight.

"Here." Derek responds defensively, as if he already knows how Stiles is going to react.

"Here?!" Stiles gestures in disbelief to the house. "You can't sleep here! You have like a billion leaks in the roof, how are you even going to get dry?"

Derek just glares and Stiles is pretty he does it because he doesn't have a good answer.

"Well, suit yourself" Stiles wriggles out of a few sweaters and tosses them at Scott who has returned from the creek. "Do you have an air-mattress in there? Just gonna take a nice float around your living room tonite?" Stiles snorted, imagining the surly Alpha reclined on a colourful, flowered air-mattress, using the shoulder blades of his enemies as paddles.

"Look," Stiles turns back to Derek before heading back to the Jeep, "If the whole pool party thing gets old, you can just come crash at my house, OK?"

Derek, what with his excellent social skills and all, doesn't say anything.

Stiles shakes his head and dashes for the Jeep.

...

Derek is soaked thru and scowly, looking more like an angry wet cat than a werewolf probably should. He'd appeared in Stile's window 5 minutes after the thunder started.

"Are you scared of _thunder?_" Stiles laughs incredulously.

"No." scowls Derek "It's loud. Hurts my ears."

Stiles draws out a slow, sceptical "uh huh", clearly pushing his luck because Derek was doing his I-Am-The-Alpha-And-I-Am-Not-Scared-Of-Anything stance. The effect was somewhat ruined when a second clap of thunder caused him to flinch.

The werewolf is dripping all over the floor so Stiles grabs some extra PJ pants and a t shirt and points Derek toward the bathroom. While his guest showers, Stiles sits on his bed and wonders what his life is. I mean, really, they could make a movie out of this crap. He's trying to decide whether it would be a comedy or a horror film, when Derek walks back in, toweling off his abs. Stiles wonders if he does that on purpose. Seriously, the man is kind of an exhibitionist.

Derek tosses the towel into the hamper and squeezes into the t-shirt that Stiles gave him.

There may or may not be several baggier shirts in the back of Stile's closet that he has conveniently forgotten about.

As Derek pulls the shirt over his head, Stiles takes full advantage of the moment to watch Derek's body flex and tilt. Derek looks down at himself and back up at Stiles with the familiar Death-Glare from the Danny Incident which he is clearly remembering.

Stiles widens his eyes innocently. "Hey! They might fit you a little better if you spent less time doing pushups and more time learning how to use a computer, or practicing different facial expressions."

Derek growls.

Stiles backpedals quickly. "Never mind! The whole scowling thing kind of works for you! It's probably the finely-sculpted jaw line and long lashes framing those gorgeous- Oh my god I'm gonna shut up now."

Stiles turns away, embarrassed, but not before catching a glimpse of the Alpha's eyebrows rising in amusement.

"Where am I sleeping?" Derek asks.

"Uh well we don't have a guest room sooo..." Stiles pats the bed beside him, looking awkward yet determined.

"You think I'm going to share a bed with you." Derek sounds unimpressed.

"Hey, it's this or the floaty mattress on Hale Pond."

Derek glares for another minute before the thunder claps again and he slinks almost guiltily into the bed. "If you talk in your sleep I will smother you with your pillow." the werewolf threatens in a low voice.

"Not even safe in my own bed." Stiles mutters, feeling secretly pleased with the whole situation. "Goodnight, Sour Wolf."

Stiles rolls away from Derek and closes his eyes, determined to fall asleep immediately and not succumb to any sort of thoughts that would quicken his heartbeat. Derek, of course, was not going to make it easy for him. Derek huffs and turns over repeatedly, apparently unable to get comfy. All of a sudden he sits up so violently that Stiles almost falls out of bed.

"What?!" Stiles exclaims.

"This shirt is too tight." Derek growls before stripping it off and flinging it across the room as though it had personally offended him.

Well, so much for controlling that heartbeat.

"Better." Rumbles Derek, settling himself back down into the pillows.

Stiles feels a strong and sudden urge to fist-pump, which he valiantly suppresses. When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a beautifully sculpted window.

The pair resume their semi-awkward positions, and fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

...

Stiles tends to sleep on his back, limbs askew and that is exactly how he wakes up.

This morning, however, something is a little different. The thunder has stopped completely and the rain has turned into a light drizzle. And there is Derek.

Derek is curled up practically on top of him, a strong arm wrapped around his chest and a leg thrown across his hips. Derek's face is nuzzled into Stile's neck, his eyelashes tickling the sensitive skin under Stiles' jaw.

Judging by the steady rise and fall of Derek's chest and the fact that he's actually staying in this position, the werewolf is still asleep.

Stiles lies frozen in shock for a minute. I mean, what is the proper protocol for a surprise snuggle attack by an unconscious werewolf? Probably just go back to sleep and pretend it never happened. Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Stiles takes a few deep breaths before reaching out for his phone on the bedside table. **5:43 AM.** Well, still plenty of time to sleep, then. And his new were-wolf blanket certainly deserved all the rest he could get. So what if there was school in a few hours. If Scott could skip a few morning classes after his lunar shenanigans, surely Stiles was entitled to the same privilege. He turns off his alarm. Then, phone still in hand, Stiles has a thought. Before he puts his phone away he needs to do one more thing.

**CONTACTS**

He scrolls down till he comes to **SOUR WOLF**.

**EDIT CONTACT**. Stiles bites down on the corner of a mischievous smile as he re-types.

**SNUGGLE WOLF**

**SAVE CHANGES.**

That little grin spreads over Stiles' face as he set his phone back down on the table and lets his eyes drift closed.


End file.
